Tea cures everything
by Moneypenny
Summary: Spoilers for season 1 episode 2. This 'missing scene' between Tom and Zoe wouldn't leave me alone.


Title: Tea cures everything

Author: Loopey Lou

Author's e-mail: I don't own them, please don't sue. They belong to Kudos and the BBC.

Rating: G

Spoilers: Season 1, Episode 2

Summary: Mainly Tom and Zoe with a sprinkling of Danny. I've been catching up on season one again and this 'missing scene' just wouldn't leave me alone. My first Spooks fic and it's unbeta'ed so apologies for any errors. Feedback gratefully received.

"Tea or coffee?" Zoë asked. She cringed inwardly, knowing how pathetic the question sounded. It was the kind of question her Mum would ask in moments of family crisis, as if milk and a tea-bag would put the world to rights. It wouldn't of course she reflected sadly, particularly not today. A pang of homesickness caught her unexpectedly and she sighed. The noise brought a reaction from the other side of the room and she found herself looking into a pair of blue eyes.

Perched on the edge of his sofa, with his long legs drawn up tightly in front of him, Tom was radiating nervous energy. She knew that feeling - during dangerous ops adrenaline kept you running, helped you control the fear. But like a drug it had its side-effects and the higher you got on it the further you had to fall. The grey circles around his eyes told her his body was on the verge of dropping, even if his mind was too stubborn to acknowledge it.

With an effort she conjured up a smile. "I'll get you a tea," she offered, knowing that making even that simple decision was beyond him. He blinked in reply before returning his attention to his hands, dangling limply between his knees.

Heading for the kitchen she immersed herself in the routine of making the tea, relying on the normality to keep her going. With two operations lying in tatters the whole team had been working through the night and into the early hours of the morning, pulling the scraps together, trying to build a clear picture of what had gone wrong. She'd faced questions - about the bodies washed up on the beach, her drive to the safe house, the journey with Tom back to HQ, Helen's death…

They'd already seen the bodies on the beach via the live-feed at HQ and she'd managed to deliver her report calmly, professional detachment kicking in despite the anger she felt inside. The debriefing about the journey with Tom had been harder. He'd spoken little in the car, the stiff defensive posture of his body doing his talking for him. She'd talked instead - inane chatter to fill the heavy silence. She'd half expected him - needed him - to tell her to shut up but he hadn't, his stare fixed firmly on the road ahead. It wasn't until they were in the medical centre, its bright lights and white walls a startling contrast to the privacy of the dark interior of the car that she noticed his hands were trembling.

When she saw him again several hours later the trembling had gone. As he strode through the grid, ignoring the concerned glances of those around him, the only sign of injury were the bandages poking out from under the sleeves of his jumper. Sitting down at his desk he'd tugged the sleeves down before turning his attention to a file on his desk.

The unspoken message was obvious and she and Danny had taken the hint, watching but not talking. Tom had moved only twice, and only as far as Harry's office; the first time to hear that Claire Osborne and her son had made it to safety, the second time to learn that a team had recovered Helen's body.

It had been then she'd first realized Tom was gradually coming down from his adrenaline high. Nothing major - a slight slump of his shoulders, a whispery sighs, the way he rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand - but as she glanced at Harry and Danny she noted she wasn't the only one who was concerned. Speaking softly, a note of compassion in his voice, Harry had dismissed them for the day, ordering them to go home and rest.

Which is how she'd ended up here, clinging to the routine of making tea like her life depended on it. Tom hadn't argued when she'd insisted on driving him home. They'd endured another car journey - this time in total silence - and now they were stuck in his house together, both of them avoiding the events of the day.

Part of her wanted to run, to go home and cry. Tears had been building up inside her since the safe house – hot, angry tears bubbling furiously under the surface – but she'd reined them in, allowing herself only a few when she'd broken the news about Helen to Danny. Now she knew if she started crying then she wouldn't be able to stop.

The sound of a mug shattering as she slammed it on the kitchen worktop bought her back to the present and she looked down, shocked at the strength of her anger. Forcing herself to take deep breaths she tidied us, risking a quick glance over her shoulder towards the living room. There was no sound or movement though and a few moments later, when she'd finally made the tea, she found out why.

Tom was slumped back in the sofa, his eyes closed, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. When he opened his eyes they shone brightly with tears.

"Tom…"

Ignoring her concern he struggled up into a sitting position, taking his mug of tea from her before she could even offer it to him. Taking a half-hearted sip from it, he wrapped his hands around the mug and stared at the contents, refusing to look her in the eye.

Sitting down on the sofa beside him, she mirrored his actions with the tea, taking a longer sip. "If you want to talk about it…"

There was silence and then he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat. Finally he looked over at her.

"Tea. The cure for all ills."

It was a classic Tom Quinn diversionary manoeuvre. For a moment she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "My Mum swears by it," she offered after a pause, rejecting the idea of tears and managing a weak smile instead.

"Mmm." His attention drifted off again, his gaze switching to an invisible point on the opposite wall. The room went quiet and Zoë felt herself drifting as well as the previous 24 hours caught up with her. When Tom spoke again she nearly jumped.

"Are your parents still together?"

She blinked rapidly as her sluggish minded struggled to grasp the question. "Er…yes." Confused, she nervously volunteered a question of her own: "Yours?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment but still didn't meet her gaze. "Yes. Do you think they're happy?"

"Who?"

"Your parents."

"Oh." Frowning she scanned his face, looking for a clue as to where the conversation was going. She saw nothing though, not even the sheen of tears she'd seen before. Sighing inwardly she resigned herself to answering the questions and seeing where he would lead her. Sitting up straighter, she forced herself to concentrate. "Yeah, I think so." Silence again. "Yours?"

Tom took another sip of his tea. "Mostly."

She waited for him to elaborate on his enigmatic reply. With a sigh she gave in, the uncomfortable silence eating away her already frayed nerves. "I was just thinking about my Mum," she said, more to herself than Tom, "when I was making the tea. I used to love coming home from school, curling up in front of the TV, telling her what I'd been up to during the day." She smiled to herself, hugging the tea mug close. "It's funny, even when I go back now it's always the same. She's always there with the kettle on, ready to chat. It's lovely." She faltered, swallowing hard against a sudden lump in her throat. Glancing at Tom, she realized he was watching her. Feeling self-conscious she looked away. "I know it sounds silly but it feels safe, you know?"

"Yes, I know."

His voice was barely a whisper. She met her eyes and heart clenched painfully at the swirling emotions in his eyes. As he looked away she noticed he'd put the tea-mug down and was fiddling nervously with a ring on his left hand. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached out automatically to stop him but he spoke first, stopping her.

"She thought I could protect her, Zoë. She did everything I asked her to," he faltered, fiddling with the ring again. "She played her part perfectly. I couldn't stop-"

"Don't." This time she did reach out and touch him, forcing herself not to pull back when he flinched. "Don't." She squeezed his hand gently and she was rewarded as he smiled weakly at her. She watched as he took a deep breath and physically drew himself up.

"I know," he finally agreed with another weak smile, a poor imitation of his normal smile. He looked on the verge of saying something else when he broke into a wide yawn.

Pushing herself up from the sofa, she collected the empty mugs. "You should try getting some sleep," she suggested gently, pretending not to notice the flash of panic in his eyes.

"Harry gave us all orders to rest," he retorted but the scowl he threw in her direction was half-hearted.

When she wandered back out of the kitchen again ten minutes later his eyes were closed again, his arms wrapped protectively around his middle. He didn't even stir when a knock on the front door shattered the silence. Tiptoeing to the door, she checked the spy-hole before letting Danny in. Indicating that he needed to keep quiet they crept back into the kitchen.

Letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, she closed the kitchen door behind them and slumped against it.

"That good, huh?" Danny asked, with a grimace of sympathy.

Zoë reached over and gave him a hug, hanging on for a moment as he hugged her back. "Yeah. You?"

"Wonderful." The way he rolled his eyes spoke volumes. He nodded towards the closed door. "How's he doing?"

She shrugged, not sure how to reply. In many ways he was responding in the way they'd expected. But this was Tom and he wasn't easy to read at the best of times. She felt guilty with relief as Danny nodded, apparently happy to agree with whatever he thought she was thinking. Suddenly feeling every one of the previous 24 hours, she fought to stifle a yawn.

Danny frowned. "You should get some sleep," he insisted, ploughing on as she opened her mouth to protest. "Zoë, Harry wants us back in the office tomorrow. You need to go home."

"No, I can't-"

Tom's voice floated through from the living room: "Yes you can."

Sharing a look they opened the door and ventured back into the living room. Tom was awake – assuming that he'd ever been asleep - and watching them closely. She returned his scrutiny, not backing down as he met her gaze. Anyone who didn't know him wouldn't believe what he'd been through. She knew better but silently admired his ability to mask his emotions.

He seemed to determined to keep up the façade for Danny. "Harry gave us direct orders," he pointed out, staring at each of them in turn. "You're supposed to be resting."

Danny stared back, arching an eyebrow skywards. "We will if you will."

Watching, Zoë braced herself for an argument but it never came. The corner of Tom's mouth twisted into a crude smile. "Okay."

She opened her mouth to protest but Tom stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Go home," he ordered, the tiredness in his voice taking any sting out of the command. "And let Danny take you, you're in no state to drive."

Suddenly the chance to retreat to the privacy of her own room was too tempting to turn down – even if the place was a pigsty. Tiredly running her hands through her hair she gave in. "Danny, would you mind…?"

"No, of course not." Danny hesitated for a moment, looking at each of them in turn. Frowning, he said good bye then left to get his car.

She hung back for a moment, still unable to leave. "Are you sure you're going to be…" She trailed off, realizing what a stupid question she'd been about to ask.

He second-guessed her anyway. "I'll manage," he insisted, in the clipped, efficient tone that she was more used to. He held the charade for a moment then sighed, his body seeming to deflate. "I think I'll go and see Ellie and Maisie. I need to…"

He trailed off self-consciously, his fingers absently fiddling with the ring on his left hand. She thought she understood though. Ellie and Maisie represented safety and it was that more than anything else that he needed now.

With a nod she said goodbye, gently closing the front door behind her. Looking back through the front window she could see Tom watching her walk down the path. Forcing herself not to look back she blinked away the tears that were still bubbling under the surface and tried to hard not to feel jealous.


End file.
